had on three pairs of trousers; "I have no adversaries; I didn't come
here to fight!"
"Yes, yes, that's all right, don't be alarmed. In old times, the seconds
used to fight; and if you want to follow the example of the
_raffinés_,--under Louis XIII, for instance, they sometimes fought six
against six; those were pleasure parties, on my word!"
"A delicious kind of pleasure! I have no admiration for the manners of
those days."
"Well, Tobie, come on, for heaven's sake! What the devil! are your
trousers too tight for you? you act as if you couldn't walk!"
"Yes, they cut me; they hurt me terribly."
Count Dahlborne's second was a Swede, a friend of his, who was as tall
and stiff as he; he had been in Paris only a few days, and did not
understand French, his ability to speak that tongue being thus far
limited to the phrases: _Oui, monsieur_, and _bien obligé_.
Albert went forward to meet his opponent, and they saluted each other
with much courtesy.
"Allow me to present Monsieur de Mulberg," said the count, waving his
hand toward his second.
Albert, assuming that it was a Swedish custom to introduce one's second,
stepped back, and said, indicating Tobie, who persisted in remaining in
the background:
"And I have the honor of presenting Monsieur Tobie Pigeonnier."
The salutations were repeated, and Monsieur de Mulberg walked up to
Tobie and held out his hand, saying:
"_Bien obligé_,[N] monsieur!"
"What's that? it isn't worth while," rejoined Tobie, allowing his hand
to be shaken with a decidedly ill grace.
Albert pointed to a path at the right, and said to the count:
"Let us go in this direction; we shall be able to find a place where we
shall not be seen or disturbed."
They all followed Albert, Tobie still in the rear and walking as if he
were very uncomfortable. Albert halted in an isolated open space,
surrounded by dense bushes, saying:
"It seems to me that we shall be very comfortable here."
Count Dahlborne nodded his head in assent, and turned to his friend.
"Arrange the preliminaries with monsieur, Monsieur de Mulberg," he said.
Monsieur de Mulberg walked gravely to Tobie, and began to talk Swedish
with him, offering his pistols. Tobie poked him in the stomach, and
said:
"Look you! I believe you agree with me that this affair can be arranged.
What is the difficulty? I'll bet that it's some foolish trifle."
Monsieur de Mulberg, who was a very ceremonious individual, was much
offended because the little man presumed to poke him in the stomach. He
frowned, uttered a violent oath, stamped on the ground, and handed Tobie
a pistol, exclaiming:
"_Oui, monsieur, bien obligé._"
Tobie hastily drew back, saying to his principal:
"How do you expect me to agree to anything with this gentleman? He talks
some language I never heard before, and looks all the time as if he
meant to fire at me."
"Look you, monsieur le comte," said Albert, "I fancy that we can arrange
matters better than our seconds can. Let us stand thirty paces apart; we
will each walk forward ten paces when your second claps his hands, and
fire when we please. Is that satisfactory to you?"
"Perfectly."
"I will take my place.--Tobie, count off thirty paces, starting from
here."
Tobie acted as if he were uncertain whether he would do it or not; but
he finally decided to do so, and made each of his paces twice the usual
length.
"You want to fight, do you?" he said to himself; "and you don't think
anything about breakfasting. All right! get it over at once! To think
that that Monsieur Vermoncey doesn't come! The messenger probably didn't
understand me."
The distance being marked off and the adversaries in their places,
Monsieur de Mulberg clapped his hands, and Tobie lay flat on the ground,
muttering:
"Nobody knows what may happen! Unskilful men have been known to shoot
their seconds, but I don't suppose they'll aim at the ground."
The combatants walked forward two or three steps, then fired at almost
the same instant. Albert received the bullet in his coat collar. But
Count Dahlborne was less fortunate; he was shot in the left arm, near
the shoulder, but did not fall.
"Are you wounded, monsieur le comte?" asked Albert, running up to him.
"Yes--in the arm--the shoulder, I believe. Oh! it's a trifle. I don't
see why we should go any further. But you are a fine young fellow, and I
consider it my duty to tell you what Madame Baldimer whispered to me
last night when she left us."
"Ah! she said something to you, did she? And to me, too."
"She whispered these words in my ear: 'This young man is constantly at
my heels; find some way to rid me of his presence.'"
Albert turned pale when he heard what his fair enslaver thought of him.
"I give you my word of honor that she said that to me," added the count.
"I believe you, especially as she said to me, speaking of you: 'That man
is insufferable to me; try to rid me of him.'"
"She's a woman who isn't worth having two respectable men fight for her.
I abandon the field to you, monsieur; I shall go no more to her house."
"Oh! my love has vanished, monsieur le comte; I mean to go there once
more, simply to bid her farewell and tell her that I am no longer her
dupe; then I shall never see her again."
During this conversation, Albert supported the count, while Monsieur de
Mulberg went to fetch the carriage. As for Tobie, immediately after the
exchange of shots, he sprang to his feet and ran after Monsieur
Dahlborne's second, crying:
"It won't amount to anything--a wound in the arm--it isn't dangerous."
But Monsieur de Mulberg, to whom it had seemed very strange that their
opponent's second should throw himself flat on his stomach as the shots
were fired, bestowed a wrathful glance upon him, and turned away,
muttering:
"_Bien obligé_, monsieur."
"Go to the devil! You make me sick!" said Pigeonnier to himself, as he
walked toward the cab. "One would say that he was angry because his
friend isn't killed!"
Monsieur de Mulberg arrived with the carriage, and Albert assisted the
count to get in; then they parted, with a shake of the hand.
Albert went to join Tobie, who was already in their cab.
"Well," exclaimed the latter, when his friend came in sight, "I trust
that we are satisfied! Victors! and not a scratch! That is a very
agreeable ending. We shall eat breakfast enough for four."
"Oh! I am indignant beyond words! I am furious!" said Albert, as he
entered the cab.
"The deuce you are! I don't understand at all. Are you furious because
you aren't wounded?"
"Bah! I am not talking about the duel! It's that woman I am thinking of!
that woman who has mocked at me and my love! who hoped, perhaps, that I
would be killed!"
"Oho! so it was on a woman's account that you fought. They have the very
devil in them, these women, to insist upon it that we should all fight
for them!"
"I am going to her now, to confound her.--Whip up your horse, driver;
you may drop me at Rue Neuve-Vivienne.--Do you, Tobie, go at once and
find that messenger, and get my letter. You will understand that it must
not be delivered to my father, for it would cause him unnecessary
anxiety."
Tobie made no reply. He recalled what he had told Paul to do, and
wondered what the result would be.
"Oh! these women! these women!" cried Albert; "I am utterly unable to
understand this one. What coquetry! what perfidy!"
"It's Madame Baldimer, isn't it?"
"Yes; it is she! Oh! I will tell the whole world of her shameful
conduct! Our homage is not enough for her; she must have our blood!"
"Thanks! she shan't have mine; I wouldn't prick myself with a pin for
her. But, by the way--what about our duel--concerning Madame Plays?"
"Tell her that you killed me."
"Killed you!"
"You can safely say that, as I am going to leave Paris for several
months. I want to divert my thoughts; above all things, I want to forget
that woman who has made a plaything of my affection. I shall start this
very evening."
"All right; it's agreed that I have killed you, that you are dead. She
will find out later that it isn't true; but what do I care? when she has
once accorded me her favors, she can't take them back. Such things, when
they're once given, aren't to be taken back. To be sure, although they
give them away, they still have them; that is very agreeable for those
who like to be generous."
The cab had reached Rue Neuve-Vivienne. Albert alighted in front of
Madame Baldimer's house, and said to Tobie:
"Now, go at once and find the messenger, so that he won't carry the
letter to my father."
"Yes, yes! I will go. But I say, Albert, you promised to lend me--you
know--the money to redeem my olive."
"Oh, yes! Well, come to the house soon--this evening; I will give you
the money."
"I won't fail. By the way, you will gratify me by not telling the other
fellows that----"
Albert was not listening; he had hastened to the stairs, and he ran up
without taking breath. When he reached Madame Baldimer's door, he rang.
The maid opened the door.
"Your mistress--where is she? I must speak with her instantly. I
absolutely must!"
The tone in which the young man spoke, his agitated manner, the pallor
of his cheeks, alarmed the maid, who replied:
"Madame is at home, monsieur, and I would certainly tell her that you
are here, but--at this moment--I don't dare to go in--because----"
"Because--well, go on."
"Because madame is not alone. There's a gentleman with her."
"A gentleman! What gentleman? It can't be Count Dahlborne, for I have
just left him, and he is wounded."
"No, monsieur; it isn't Count Dahlborne."
"Well, then, who is it? Tell me, Rosa. Here, take this, and conceal
nothing from me."
Albert resorted to the irresistible argument; he took several gold
pieces from his pocket and put them in the servant's hand, and thereby
completely loosed her tongue; indeed, she had a tender regard for the
young man, because he was an exceedingly comely youth, and with many
women, especially young women, that, too, is an irresistible argument.
"Well, monsieur," replied Rosa, speaking very low, "madame is with that
tall young man--one of your friends, I think, as I have met him
sometimes walking with you."
"What! can it be Célestin?"
"That's the name--it is Monsieur Célestin."
"And he comes here? Madame Baldimer receives him?"
"Oh, yes! quite often, too."
"Is he her lover?"
"No, no! oh! as to that, I assure you that he isn't anything of the
kind; not that he doesn't want to be, for he makes love to madame; but,
between you and me, I think she's fooling him."
"He comes to see her! and he never told me!"
"_Pardi!_ he'd be mighty careful not to, as he comes and tells madame
everything you do; and, between you and me, I think that's all madame
receives him for."
"The villain! can it be possible? play the spy on me!"
"And this morning, only a moment ago, I heard--because, you see, when
I'm near the door, I can hear very well without listening; I have sharp
ears--I heard Monsieur Célestin tell Madame Baldimer that you were to
fight a duel this morning with Count Dahlborne; that he was watching
last night in the street, and heard you say: 'Until to-morrow, at ten
o'clock, at Porte Saint-Mandé.'"
"Ah! this is too much!"
And Albert rushed toward the salon, paying no heed to Rosa, who besought
him not to betray her; he strode rapidly through two rooms to the
boudoir, opened the door, and found himself in the presence of Madame
Baldimer and his intimate friend Célestin.
The lovely widow was half reclining on a couch, listening to Monsieur
Célestin, who sat on a chair a few feet away, apparently talking with
much earnestness.
At sight of Albert, both were petrified; but in Célestin's case, it was
simply regret at being surprised in Madame Baldimer's house; whereas, in
her case, it was consternation and rage at the certainty that her hopes
were crushed.
"It is I," said Albert, throwing himself into a chair; "I am sure that
you did not expect me; madame flattered herself, no doubt, that Count
Dahlborne had relieved her of my presence, as she begged him to do last
night, after making a similar request of me, in a whisper, with respect
to him."
The fair American turned ghastly pale, while Monsieur Célestin rose and
took his hat.
"As it happens, my dear friend," he said, "I learned that you were to
fight a duel this morning, and I came here to tell madame, because,
knowing that she has a--most affectionate regard for you, I thought
that--that she might perhaps prevent the meeting."
"Why don't you say, also, that it is because you are in the habit of
coming here to report to madame everything I do, and that, abusing my
confidence in you, you have been false to our friendship in the hope
that that would serve your love."
Célestin bit his lips and lost something of his assurance.
"Oh! upon my word," he faltered, "what an idea! Someone has slandered
me. I am not capable---- But you probably have much to say to each
other. I do not wish to disturb your tête-à-tête. Au revoir, Albert!--my
respects, madame!"
And Célestin left the room, his departure being apparently unnoticed by
the two persons he addressed.
Madame Baldimer kept her eyes fixed on the floor, and seemed to be
absorbed by the emotion caused by Albert's unexpected arrival. He gazed
earnestly at that woman whose beauty had set his heart on fire, and
tried to find in the expression of her face something that betrayed the
falseness of her heart.
After a prolonged scrutiny of her features, which led to no discovery,
unless it were this--that a perfectly regular face affords much less
scope than another for the observations of the moralist, Albert turned
his eyes elsewhere, and chance willed that they should fall on Madame
Baldimer's feet, which, at that moment, she had not remembered to keep
out of sight, as she usually did.
We have already said that her foot was the fair American's weak point,
and that, like the peacock, her pride did not attach to that part of her
person, which, for that reason, she almost never showed.
Albert was amazed at the sight of that broad, flat foot, so entirely out
of harmony with the lady's slender figure; and the longer he looked at
it, the more conscious he became of a feeling of something like
satisfaction, of well-being; his heart seemed to be relieved of a
weight; his anger vanished, and he ended by laughing heartily, saying:
"Mon Dieu! I was mad! Gad! if I had only seen it sooner!"
Madame Baldimer looked up when she heard Albert laugh, and saw that his
eyes were fastened on her feet. A deep flush overspread her face, she
hurriedly rearranged her dress, so that it covered even the soles of
her shoes; but it was too late, the effect was wrought. Albert rose and
bowed to the fair widow, saying in a mocking tone:
"On my honor, madame, if I had seen them sooner, I assure you that I
would not have fought for you!"
Madame Baldimer's eyes gleamed with a furious expression difficult to
describe. Having said this much,--and he could have wreaked no more
cruel vengeance on a coquette,--Albert left the house and hurried to his
own home.
At sight of him, the concierge uttered a joyful exclamation, which was
echoed by one of his father's servants, who was in the courtyard.
"Well, what's the matter?" queried Albert; "why does my presence produce
this effect on you?"
"Oh! monsieur, is it really you? What joy!"
"We were terribly afraid you were dead, monsieur----"
"That you had been killed in a duel----"
"Ah! how happy monsieur your father will be when he sees you--he was so
anxious, so distressed, when he went away!"
"How did my father know that I had a duel for this morning? Who could
have told him?"
"A messenger, who came with a letter; and we heard Monsieur Vermoncey
say, when he was coming downstairs: 'If only I arrive in time to prevent
this duel, and nothing has happened to my son!'"
Albert was grieved that the affair should have come to his father's
ears, for he was well aware of his great love for him, and he realized
how anxious he must be at that moment; but he did not understand why the
messenger had brought his letter, as Tobie should have found him in
ample time to countermand the order.
"Where did he go to look for me?" asked Albert. "I didn't mention in my
letter where we were to fight, and the messenger couldn't have known
that."
The concierge and the servant had no idea; they could only tell what
they knew: that Monsieur Vermoncey was very anxious, very much agitated;
that he was talking to himself aloud when he came downstairs; that when
he was in the street, he stopped, and, after talking a few seconds with
the messenger, sent him to call a cab; and that, when it came, they both
got in and drove away very fast.
Albert did not know what steps to take to find his father, for he feared
that, while he was looking for him in one direction, Monsieur Vermoncey
would be prosecuting his search in a diametrically opposite direction.
However, as he could not remain at rest when he thought of the suffering
he had caused his father, he sent for a cab, and had determined to scour
the neighborhood of Vincennes and Saint-Mandé, when the servant, who was
standing at the door, cried out:
"Here he is, monsieur! I know the cab, and I can see monsieur your
father and the messenger inside. Here he is!"
A moment later, a cab did, in fact, stop in front of the house. Albert
was in the street, making signs by which his father might recognize him.
Monsieur Vermoncey uttered a joyful cry, and, leaping from the carriage,
threw himself into his son's arms and held him to his heart for a long,
long time. If you have ever thought that you had lost the object of your
affection, the being who, more than any other, makes life dear to you,
you will realize to the full the bliss of recovering him and holding him
in your arms. You fear lest that bliss is only a lie, and you feel that
you must prolong it to the utmost in order to make sure that it is real.
Paul's eyes were wet with tears when he saw Albert in his father's arms.
He, too, was happy that nothing had happened to the young man whose
father was so devotedly attached to him. And yet, there was always a
strain of sadness in his feelings when he saw a child caressed by its
parents.
At last, Monsieur Vermoncey, being a little calmer, started to go
upstairs with his son, and Paul was about to leave the house; but
Albert's father, noticing it, said to him:
"Come, my friend; come upstairs with us."
The young messenger obeyed, and followed Monsieur Vermoncey and his son
to their apartments.
There Albert tried to understand what had happened; he asked Paul why,
instead of following his instructions, he had neglected to wait two
hours before bringing to Monsieur Vermoncey the letter he had given him.
The messenger told what Tobie had said to him, and Albert angrily
stamped on the floor, crying:
"That Tobie must always put his foot in it; he is the cause of all your
anxiety."
"This young man," said Monsieur Vermoncey, pointing to Paul, "having
noticed that you drove along the boulevards toward Porte Saint-Antoine,
I thought that your duel would probably take place at Vincennes. We
drove there in a very short time. After appointing a place of meeting,
we beat up the woods, I and this good fellow--who seconded me with a
zeal which I cannot praise too highly! We met at the appointed place,
tired out and no wiser than before. Being convinced that you were not to
fight at Vincennes, I was about to start for Romainville, when this
young man advised me to inquire first at Saint-Mandé. There I learned
that you had been seen, and that the duel had evidently taken place, for
a wounded man had been taken away in a carriage, going at a very slow
pace. But was it you, or was it your opponent? that, it was impossible
for me to find out; so I decided to come back here, suffering torments
of anxiety which you can well imagine. But here you are! I ought to
reprove you, but I like to think that you will remember the torture I
have suffered to-day, and that you will not subject me to such misery
again."
While Albert promised his father to be more prudent in the future,
Monsieur Vermoncey went to his secretary, took from it ten napoleons,
and handed them to Paul.
"Here, my friend," he said, "accept this from me. What you have done for
me to-day cannot be paid for, I know; for I have found in you what we
often seek in vain among people who claim to be our friends: a man who
understood my distress, who shared it, and who did everything in his
power to relieve it. And it was not selfish interest that guided you;
no, it was your heart alone; for I saw tears of joy fall from your eyes
when you perceived my son in the distance. You are kind-hearted and
susceptible to noble sentiments; you must be a worthy fellow and a
blessing to your parents; take this as a souvenir of this day."
Paul was deeply moved and could hardly make out to say, in faltering
tones:
"But this is too much, monsieur; I was paid beforehand--I do not want
any more; I am so happy to have been useful to you."
Monsieur Vermoncey took the young man's hand, and, while pressing it
affectionately, placed the money in it.
"Come, come! accept it as a favor to me; you will grieve me if you
refuse. Take the money to your mother, so that she too may be happy
to-day."
Paul lowered his eyes without replying, and Monsieur Vermoncey
continued:
"By the way, my friend, where is your stand?"
"Rue du Helder, monsieur, at the corner of the boulevard. Monsieur your
son knows me very well."
"Are you his regular messenger?"
"No, monsieur; but my comrade Sans-Cravate is; his stand is--not far
from mine."
"That is true," said Albert; "and if I had found him this morning, I
probably should have employed him to do my errand."
"Well," continued Monsieur Vermoncey, "hereafter I propose to employ no
other messenger than you. What is your name?"
"Paul, monsieur."
"Very well, Paul, you understand, you are to be my messenger. You are
not sorry, I trust, are you?"
"Far from it, monsieur; and I will do all that I can to deserve your
confidence."
"I am sure of it, my friend; and now--au revoir!"
Paul bowed low and left the room, touched to the quick by the interest
manifested by Monsieur Vermoncey, and with his heart filled with a
strange joy, the cause of which he was at a loss to understand.
When Albert was alone with his father, he embraced him again.
"You were right," he cried, "perfectly right! when you told me that some
love intrigues were very dangerous, that there were women who led us
much further than we meant to go; and when you told me to distrust my
friend Célestin, whose manner did not attract you. Yes, father; you
judged him fairly. My friend Célestin is a traitor, who deceived me and
tried to rob me of the woman I was trying to overcome; and as for
her,--as false as and even more treacherous than Célestin, as she had
not love for an excuse,--she pretended to love me, gave me the most
alluring hopes, and secretly requested a Swedish count, who was paying
court to her, to rid her of me as soon as possible."
"What infernal perfidy! Can it be that women treat you so--young as you
are, and amiable, and made to please!"
"Yes, father. But not all of them, luckily."
"Who is this woman, pray, whose heart is so black?"
"An American; or, at least, a person who has lately come from America;
for I believe that she is a native-born Frenchwoman; an alleged
widow,--very beautiful, I must admit,--who calls herself Madame
Baldimer."
"Baldimer; I have never heard that name before."
"She has been in Paris only a year, and frequents a certain--rather
eccentric social circle, which is not that which you frequent. Well, I
had the good luck to inflict only a trifling wound on the Swedish count,
with whom she had the cleverness to involve me in a duel--a most
excellent gentleman, who, like myself, has sworn to have no more to do
with Madame Baldimer. I have told my friend Célestin what I think of
him. And now, father, to enable me to forget entirely this affair and
the woman who caused it, let me travel a few months; it will do me good;
it will force me to break these Parisian habits and intimacies, which
are not all beneficial, as I have had a chance to find out. I shall
return a new man, refreshed and sensible. You will let me go, won't
you?"